Enjoy 2k of Derek’s soup assassination attempts! I’m also posting this on an airplane. I am god. :)
(Also 10/10 PROMPT FILLS MOTHERFUCKERS)
Stiles is ninety-nine percent
certain Derek is trying to kill him.
He peers cautiously out from
under the frankly obscene amount of blankets draped over him and the couch,
eyeing Derek, who’s in the kitchen stirring a pot of soup with so much force,
Stiles is half afraid he’s going to break the spoon. Or the pot. The cast iron pot.
Stiles ducks back under the
covers and wonders if Derek’s going to try pouring scalding soup over him,
considering his earlier attempt on Stiles’ life didn’t work. As if Stiles would
let someone kill him with a simple cough syrup overdose! His defenses may be
down because he’s sick, but he won’t be killed that easily!
Now if only he could figure out
how to get Derek out of his house before things get any worse. Unfortunately,
Derek’s here under the guise of kindness and caring for a sick friend, and if
Stiles tries to kick him out, there’s no doubt that he’ll end up being the one
painted as the aggressor with Derek as the victim.
Fuck. His. Life.
He pokes his head out from
under the blankets again as he feels an intimidating presence looming over him.
Derek glares down at him, a bowl clutched tightly in his hands. Idly, Stiles
wonders if he’s going to have to switch all their dishes to plastic in order to
properly werewolf-proof the house. Hell, he probably should have done it years ago.
“Eat,” Derek demands, placing
the bowl on the nearby coffee table.
“Okay, but can you really eat soup?” Stiles asks, his throat sore
and raspy as he pulls the covers around him again so that only his eyes and
nose poke out. “I mean, it’s primarily broth, right? So shouldn’t I drink it?”
“There are noodles,” Derek
replies, as if that solves this whole existential dilemma.